


Birthday Candles

by babbyspanch



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, gay realization, mild mentioned body horror, only canon content body horror but, spoilers for season 10 and 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbyspanch/pseuds/babbyspanch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle in the canyon, Simmons has a lot of time to do some thinking alone. Probably way too alone. Things start coming together and Simmons starts coming apart. Luckily Grif has some experience with stitching people back together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Candles

 

It took Simmons twelve years to figure out why he was so uncomfortable sharing a shower room and barracks with a bunch of guys. Why he was so familiar with the changing room ceiling and knew the fastest ways to get changed into his under armor.

When he finally pieced it all together he was sitting in a cramped room on a hard bunk that the New Republic had given him. Which-- for the first time since he had joined this goddamn army-- he didn't have to share with Grif.

He should be relieved-- excited to finally have a room to himself that he could masturbate in. It had been years since he had let out the tension without feeling guilty about Grif being three feet over his head.

As Simmons snapped off his chest peice and struggled with the back clips he had never needed to undo alone before, it hit him that all he felt was a sort of empty resignation. Giving up on the back armor for the moment, he grit his teeth and yanked off his helmet, throwing it onto the beat up set of drawers with a clang.

He sat on the bed and covered his face; his gloves smelled of sweat and blood and gunpowder but he closed his eyes and breathed deeply anyway, finally letting in the thoughts he'd been fighting off since the battle at the canyon.

Sarge was gone, probably dead. So was Domit. So was Wash. And so was Lopez.

He bit into his bottom lip, not quite hard enough to bleed but hard enough that there was pain. Hard enough that he knew there would be indents after he let go.

Slowly he breathed in through his nose, counting to seven. He kept his eyes closed and held it for three. He let go of his lip and breathed out as hard as he could, the air rushed raggedly out of his lungs and Simmons felt himself collapse.

His family was gone. Grif was still here but so far from him it hardly seemed to count. And, God damn it, he was probably gay.

The next inhale was sharp and harsh and suddenly there were tears welling up. He tried pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes, distracting himself with the bursts of colour, but that just made the tears fall. For the first time in years, he began to cry over something unconnected to pain. He stood up and yanked his gloves off and his gauntlets followed shortly after. They thanked harshly against the door as he threw them and started stripping off the rest of his armor until he was standing in his underwear, tears streaming down his face while he struggled to breath. His legs gave out and he wrapped his arms around himself. Freezing cold and burning up all at once.

His brain moved too fast for coherent thoughts, it was just jumping from feeling to feeling in a fucking whirlwind of air sucking panic he couldn’t catch his breath in. Three things kept coming back to the forefront of his mind over and over; a mantra of emotions that he couldn't put the brakes on and stop feeling.

His found family was dead.

Grif was gone.

He was gay.

He felt like he was being crushed inward, smaller and smaller until he couldn't feel his legs or arms and everything was caught in his throat.

He covered his eyes again, breath wheezing through his mouth in short bursts.

He was a failure.

He pushed his forehead against his knees to release some of the pressure in his head and tried to breathe properly but he couldn't.

He _couldn't_.

Another failure.

He gasped at the air around him, hands coming up to grip his hair and pull, trying to get air to his lungs but-

His door opened.

It shut quietly and Simmons’ horrible harsh breathing became the only sound in the room. He instantly realized what a fucking mess he was but god, he couldn’t stop. He couldn't stop.

He felt a warm hand on his back. It was meant to be comforting but it was only stifling, only crushing any sense of calm left in him.

“Don’t fucking _touch_ me.” He gasped out as he felt himself spiral deeper and deeper into god knew  what. He tried  desperately to keep a hold of something but shove it away at the same time, because hell if Simmons ever did something good for himself on purpose.

Grif took his hand off him and he felt less fuzzy.

“Simmons, listen to me.”

Simmons breath rasped as he frantically met Grif’s eyes.

“What we gotta do right now is fix your breathing.”

Simmons remained silent but his eyes flicked back and forth between Grifs’. He couldn’t stop them, he couldn't focus. Everything was building again. The buzzing in his head had stopped momentarily when Grif came in but again it started mounting full force with no signs of quieting.

Failure. That’s all Simmons was. And now Grif was here to see it.

But Grif was here.

Simmons tried to listen to the words coming out of Grifs mouth.

“--like a birthday candle, right? A slow stream of air.”

Simmons pursed his lips and blew out what the little air left in his lungs.

"Deep breath and do it again."

Two sharp inhales and a shaky stream of air later, Simmons began coming back to himself bit by bit.

Three more breaths all a little smoother than the ones before. He shut his eyes as waves of embarrassment crashed down and he did his best not to sink under again.

"Good job, nerd. Mine always take way longer to come down from."

Simmons looked up sharply, not yet ready to ask his question aloud.

Grif smiled ruefully. "Strangely enough, having half your body replaced with your best friends overnight is a little unsettling. And can lead to more than one unresolved identity crisis."

Simmons snorted. Then shut his eyes and took another deep breath and leaned into Grif's crouched form beside him.

Grif wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pulled him a little closer to his side, willingly sharing his warmth with Simmons.

In the darkness of a new room on a new planet in the middle of an old war, Simmons came out for the first time in his life. When he came out to the rest of Red team a few months later, there wasn't nearly as much kissing involved.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> for an anon on tumblr with the prompt "don't fucking touch me!"  
> More trash grimmons is available at captaindextersimmons.tumblr.com xoxo


End file.
